


Taking Proper Care Of Your Colonel

by loves_books



Category: The A-Team (2010), The A-Team - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-04
Updated: 2015-01-04
Packaged: 2018-03-05 09:40:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3115331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loves_books/pseuds/loves_books
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Over the years, Face has become very good at taking care of Hannibal, often without the Colonel even realising what Face is doing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Taking Proper Care Of Your Colonel

**Author's Note:**

  * For [delorita](https://archiveofourown.org/users/delorita/gifts).



> Written as a Secret Santa gift, for Del's request of:  
> 1\. Face taking care of Hannibal for a change  
> 2\. Sniper Face  
> 3\. Rocket Racoon
> 
> So, perhaps rather bizarrely, this story contains mild spoiler warnings for Guardians Of The Galaxy in section four.
> 
> Thanks to Indigo_Angels for her help and suggestions.

** When your Colonel is injured **

“Where is he? Face burst into the medical centre, barrelling straight up to the main desk, aware he was probably speaking far too loudly but unable to lower his voice as he added breathlessly, “Colonel Smith? Hannibal Smith, is he – ?”

“In the main ward, Lieutenant. Bay Six.” The nurse manning the desk gave him a look that was part confusion, part fear and part undeniable attraction as she took in his appearance. “But I’m afraid you can’t go back there right now.”

“Yeah, sure, okay, whatever, thanks.” Face nodded at her, smiling tightly, then started walking rapidly towards the main ward anyway, ignoring the predictable squeaks of protest from behind him. Ignoring the throb of his many blisters, caused by being in his boots for the past 48 hours straight and marching far too many miles. Ignoring the chafe on his shoulders from his heavy backpack and heavier sniper rifle. Ignoring the fact that he was exhausted, sweaty, bruised, sore, stiff…

None of those things mattered, not when he’d returned from a solo sniper mission only to be told Hannibal was in the medical unit for reasons undisclosed. He’d skipped his debriefing, dodged the waiting medics, and headed straight here.

“Bay six, bay six…” Face muttered under his breath as he stalked along the ward, finally spotting one curtained-off section. No sign of movement, no voices, and suddenly he felt his chest growing tight with terror at what might lie behind those cream drapes.

He stopped in his tracks, those boots suddenly weighing his feet down so heavily that he simply couldn’t take another step. This was Face’s worst nightmare come true – to come back from a mission, or for Hannibal to be sent on a mission away from him, and for his lover to be injured or killed with Face unable to be by his side.

Face swallowed hard, the silence of the ward suddenly oppressive, the heat of the desert making it hard to breathe.

Then, suddenly, a very familiar and much loved voice bellowed, “Nurse! Where the hell are those crutches?”

All the breath left Face’s lungs in one huge gasp, and he took a desperate breath back in before daring to call, “Hannibal?”

“Face, is that you? Get in here, kid!” 

Two huge steps took Face the remaining distance across to the bay, and he pulled back the curtain just enough to see Hannibal sitting upright on the bed, left leg raised and resting on two pillows, pants leg rolled up to his knee.

“What happened, Boss?” Closing the curtain behind himself, more out of instinct than conscious thought, Face quickly scanned his lover for injuries before his gaze settled on the heavy bandaging around the Colonel’s left ankle, and the bruising already spreading down over his bare foot and up his shin. “They told me you were hurt.”

“Just a bad sprain. Some kid tripped me on the training run this morning, sent me rolling down a dune.” Hannibal sounded disgruntled but relatively free of pain, and Face found himself starting to relax at last, his racing heart slowing. “What are you doing back already? We weren’t expecting you until tomorrow night.”

Face shrugged, feeling his heavy backpack cutting into his shoulders once again. “Got the job done early, figured I’d head back.” He deliberately kept his answer vague, knowing Hannibal would understand. Damned classified missions. “You’re really okay?”

“I’m really okay. Are you?” Hannibal suddenly frowned at Face, those piercing blue eyes raking down and back up his body. “You came straight here, didn’t you?”

“Of course I did. They told me you were hurt.”

Hannibal held out one big hand and Face gladly stepped closer to take it, squeezing tightly. He longed to throw himself into Hannibal’s arms, to kiss him ‘hello’ before dragging him straight to the nearest proper bed, but none of that was appropriate or possible in the middle of an army base. Not even with the flimsy curtain holding the outside world at bay for the time being.

“I’m okay,” Hannibal told him again, voice slightly softer. “The nurse is just taking her own sweet time finding me some crutches. I can’t put any weight on this damn ankle, but I refuse to stay here a minute longer than I have to.” Face didn’t argue, knowing he’d feel exactly the same way if their positions were reversed, but he did start planning ways to keep his stubborn Colonel off his feet for the next few days.

“I’ll go find her, Boss, then we’ll get you out of here, okay?” He squeezed Hannibal’s hand once before letting go, but the older man simply tightened his grip in response, gaze turning distinctly heated as those blue eyes trailed again over Face’s body.

“You really did come straight here, didn’t you,” Hannibal mused, gaze practically burning as he took in Face’s dirty t-shirt and dusty fatigue pants, and more. “With your full gear still on.”

Face wasn’t wearing body armour, hadn’t worn it all mission in fact, but everything else was certainly still in place. Rifle, pack, thigh holster. Even his keffiyeh wrapped loosely around his neck. 

Oh. Face suddenly straightened, in spite of his exhaustion and relief. He knew just how he could keep his stubborn lover off his feet, at least for the near future. And it wouldn’t be any hardship at all for him, either.

“Yeah, straight out of the field, Colonel, Sir,” he drawled, drawing himself up to almost-attention, fully aware of the way the straps of his pack tightened across his chest and drew attention to his pecs. Fully aware of the way Hannibal’s gaze snapped straight there. “Full gear in place. Heavy, this, after I’ve been carrying it around for a week. Rifle and all.”

Hannibal nodded slowly, licking his lips and still staring at Face’s chest. Face supressed a smirk. It wasn’t really a uniform kink, but he knew his older lover really did appreciate the sight of him in his kit. Knew Hannibal appreciated his sniper skills as well as his body. Knew it was more than just physical between the two of them, but sometimes the physical took precedence.

Knew it wouldn’t be too hard to get Hannibal to lay down in their bunk while Face stripped all his kit off for him. Slowly, carefully. Perhaps stripping down his rifle and cleaning it, too. 

The sound of footsteps approaching suddenly brought the outside world crashing down around them both, and Hannibal finally did drop Face’s hand, allowing him to step back as they both smiled briefly before the curtain was drawn back abruptly. 

“Here we are, Colonel, sorry that took so long – oh! Lieutenant Peck!” The nurse stopped dead in his tracks, a pair of crutches clutched in front of him almost defensively. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t expecting – ”

“My fault, Dan. Came to pick up the Colonel here, knew you wouldn’t want him leaving on his own.” Face reached out to take the crutches from the bemused nurse, patting him on the shoulder briefly before turning back to Hannibal and helping his lover swing his legs carefully off the bed. “I’ve got it from here, thanks.”

“Colonel, you’ll need to stay off – ” 

“Yes, nurse,” Hannibal cut in immediately, trying to conceal a wince as Face helped him into position over the crutches. “I’ll be good, don’t worry.” 

“You’d better be,” Face murmured as the nurse finally left them alone once again, making sure Hannibal was steady on the crutches before stepping back. “Otherwise you don’t get to watch me take all my kit off.”

“Tease,” Hannibal snapped at him softly, though Face could hear just how turned on his lover was at the thought. “How quickly do you think we can make it back to the tent?”

Face gave it a moment’s thought. “With you on those? Ten minutes, max?”

And Hannibal was off and moving, no sign of pain as he hopped expertly along, keeping his bandaged foot well above the floor. “Race you, kid!”

 

**When your Colonel is upset**

Something was wrong. Hannibal had been quiet all day, distracted and far too serious. Admittedly they were spending the day catching up on paperwork, but Face knew from long years of experience that said paperwork usually left him with either a grumpy Colonel who snapped at everyone and everything, or a cheeky Colonel who tried to escape the office every time Face turned his back.

Paperwork didn’t usually leave Face with a quiet, obedient, blank-faced Colonel. Hannibal had simply signed everything Face placed in front of him, even reading what he was told to read without question. He had grunted in response to Face’s questions, and slowly worked his way through the overflowing in-tray in his rarely used office at Benning.

Something was wrong, and Face had the distinct feeling Hannibal was upset rather than simply distracted. There was no obvious reason for it, though – yes, the paperwork had grown to a frankly alarming level during their last two months overseas, but that in itself wasn’t upsetting. Face always helped Hannibal deal with the paperwork, in fact he usually took care of most of it by himself since that was by far the fastest way to get it done correctly first time around. To the best of his knowledge, Hannibal hadn’t had any arguments or confrontations since they’d arrived back at base two days ago, nor had their last missions been anything out of the ordinary. Nothing that should have lingered and caused delayed distress, certainly.

Last night had been wonderful, on a more personal level, though Face still wracked his brain trying to think if there had been anything he had said or done which might have upset his older lover. It had been everything they could never have when they were on deployment, everything Face had missed so desperately. They’d had a quiet, romantic meal in, complete with candlelight and soft music. They’d shared a shower, Hannibal taking Face hard and fast beneath the pounding water, then shared a bed, making love long and slow well into the early hours of the morning. 

Nothing that should have upset Hannibal, and Face knew far better than to try asking his Colonel outright what was wrong, particularly not while they were on base. Instead, he put his mind to keeping Hannibal as comfortable as possible until they could leave, until he could get his lover back to their little off-base house and wrap him up in his arms. Until he could kiss Hannibal until that handsome face was split by a wide smile again, and the deep frown disappeared from his noble brow.

The paperwork was well underway, but Face carefully made sure he kept the worst of it to himself, handing Hannibal only the simpler forms which needed his sign-off. Face had long since mastered the art of signing Hannibal’s scrawly signature, so he took care of the more complicated forms himself. The knack was not to let Hannibal know what Face was doing – the Colonel hated paperwork with a vengeance, but he also hated being made to feel like he wasn’t capable of doing it. Face helping out was one thing; Face doing it all and simply shooing Hannibal from the room was not allowed.

Subtly, Face managed to take the phone off the hook. The fewer distractions the better, meaning the sooner he could get Hannibal home. Equally subtly, he kept a close watch on his lover, and made sure to offer Hannibal a cigar each time he started to get twitchy. He also double-checked that the smoke alarm in the Colonel’s office was still disabled before Hannibal lit up indoors for the first time, noting the grateful sigh with a small smile of his own.

Coffee, and cake, and biscuits. Not the crappy stuff the staff mess had on hand, no, an upset Hannibal needed the good stuff. A couple of text messages calling in a few favours, and Face quickly had three separate deliveries scheduled throughout the day from soldiers bearing steaming Starbucks cups, as well as treats from the decent patisserie just outside the base, and the best chocolate covered biscuits from the officer’s mess. Hannibal accepted whatever Face put in front of him with a soft grunt of thanks, and Face’s worry only grew.

Finally, finally, the afternoon came to an end, and Face plucked the pen from Hannibal’s unresisting fingers before bundling him straight out of the office with barely a word spoken between them. When Hannibal got like this, there was no point in Face keeping up a steady stream of conversation – contrary to popular opinion, Face did know when to keep his mouth shut, and one look at his lover’s face told him that Hannibal was lost in his own thoughts at that moment.

Soon enough they were home once again, and Face wasted no time in stripping his lover from his uniform and pushing him gently into a steaming hot shower, leaving the older man alone with those thoughts. When Hannibal emerged after nearly an hour, Face had dinner ready and on the table. Slightly burnt, admittedly, but Hannibal’s favourite comfort food of steak and fries. They ate in near silence, exchanging only simple and mindless comments about the weather and such, until finally they were curled up on the sofa together in front of the television, Hannibal tucked into one corner with Face wrapped around his side, resting his head on his lover’s chest.

“I know what you’ve been doing today,” Hannibal said abruptly, words slightly muffled as he pressed a kiss into Face’s hair. “Running distractions. Keeping the worst off my desk. Feeding me coffee.”

“And cake.” No point denying it; Face had known that Hannibal would figure out what he’d been doing. “Don’t forget the cake.”

A quiet chuckle, barely more than a vibration through Hannibal’s chest into Face’s cheek. “The cake was good. It was all good. Thank you.”

They drifted back into silence for a few minutes, the television playing quietly in the background, though Face wasn’t paying attention to what they were watching. Instead, he focussed on the steady thump of Hannibal’s heartbeat beneath his ear, and the gradual way the tension in that long body started to fade away at last.

Finally, Hannibal took a deep breath as if to speak, and Face braced himself to finally deal with whatever had been upsetting his lover. When it eventually came, he could have kicked himself for not thinking about it sooner, when his Colonel said, “It was that phone call this morning.”

“Bad news?” Face asked softly, not lifting his head from his lover’s chest but tightening his arms around Hannibal’s waist instead.

“Yes. No. Well, yes, but no, not really. Not a surprise.” Hannibal pressed another kiss into Face’s hair before continuing, “An elderly relative died. An aunt, something like my great-aunt twice removed. She was in her nineties and I hadn’t seen her since I was a teenager. Died peacefully in her bed at home, with her dog by her side.”

Face did lift his head then, resting his chin on Hannibal’s shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he murmured softly, not knowing what else to say. It wasn’t as if he had a great deal of experience dealing with relatives, either alive or dead. 

“Hadn’t even thought about her in years. I used to spend summers at her house when I was a kid, then the family just drifted apart.” Hannibal smiled sadly, though his blue eyes were clear and dry. “I’ve just been thinking about her today, about all the fun we used to have. Some of the stories she used to tell me.”

“Tell me about her?” Face reached down to snag the remote control, muting the television before cuddling back up to his lover. “What was she like?”

Hannibal favoured him with a blinding smile and a kiss on the lips before pulling Face as close as possible. “She was quite the character, let me tell you…” 

And Hannibal talked and talked, long into the night, holding Face close in his arms the whole time. Face was more than content to let himself be held, even when his left leg fell asleep shortly after midnight, knowing that was exactly what his Colonel needed at that moment.

 

** When your Colonel needs to be distracted **

“Hannibal, this really isn’t a good idea…”

Face nearly tripped over backwards as he tried to slow his Colonel’s rapid march through the base, feeling it was something like trying to stop a rampaging bull in a china shop.

“Yes, it really is, Lieutenant.” Hannibal’s growl was low and dangerous, sending a shiver of fear up Face’s spine even though he knew the anger wasn’t directed at him. “I’ll rip them all a new one.”

“Not necessary, Boss, really.” Face got both hands to Hannibal’s shoulders, trying to stop him in his tracks, but the taller man twisted around him with another growl and simply kept going. “Let the MPs deal with it, Hannibal. Seriously, you’ll only make things worse if you go tearing in like this and beat the crap out of them.”

“The MPs will give them all a slap on the wrists, and maybe one night in the cells. Not good enough.” Hannibal wouldn’t meet Face’s eyes, steely blue gaze fixed dead ahead as he continued to stalk through the city of tents towards his target. “They can’t get away with shit like this. No one pulls this sort of crap, not on one of my team.”

Face sighed, trying to keep up with his Colonel’s slightly longer stride. It wasn’t as if he didn’t understand where Hannibal was coming from – the team had been training a new baby ranger, a good kid who’d been jumped last night in what seemed to be revenge for a simple joke the team had played on one of the other units. He’d reported the men involved and made the understandable mistake of letting Hannibal know the names of the ringleaders. Hannibal wanted to beat them into the ground, and while in theory Face was fine with that, in practise…

“This isn’t a good idea, Boss, you know we’re already on a warning for behaviour.” Murdock had ‘borrowed’ a chopper, while BA had ‘borrowed’ the engine from the General’s jeep, and Face might’ve possibly ‘borrowed’ some supplies he perhaps shouldn’t have done. “Let the proper authorities deal with it, Hannibal, for now at least. We’ll have our vengeance later, when they aren’t expecting it.” He already had a few good ideas, simple things like switching out their sunblock for mayonnaise, or filling their bunks with paint pellets. And perhaps they’d all find themselves transferred somewhere a whole lot less friendly in a week or two. The simple ideas were often the best, and vengeance didn’t have to involve violence. Not all the time, at least. 

“No. They need to be told, need to be shown.” Hannibal couldn’t be swayed, it seemed, and Face really didn’t want to have to deal with the paperwork involved in getting his Colonel out of the brig for punching junior officers, even if they did deserve it. Only one thing left to try…

Quickly checking there was no one else around, Face snagged Hannibal by the elbow and used the Colonel’s own momentum to swing them both into the narrow gap between two tents, grateful the sides were both high enough to hide them effectively from sight.

“What the hell are you doing, Lieutena – ?”

Face swallowed Hannibal’s angry protest with a fierce kiss, moving both hands to his lover’s biceps in an attempt to stop him pulling away. He poured everything he could into the kiss, chasing Hannibal’s lips when the older man tried to step back, enjoying the familiar taste of cigars and coffee and something uniquely Hannibal. Something he could never get enough of.

After what seemed like hours but was probably only ten seconds or so, Face pulled back, breathing hard and pleased to see Hannibal looking more than a little stunned. “I love that you want to do this,” he whispered, leaning closer until his whole body was pressed against Hannibal’s from chest to knees. “I love that you care this much about all the men under your command. But this isn’t the way to go about things, not this time, and you know it. Stop and think for just one damn minute. You know you can’t do this, and you know I won’t let you do it.”

For a moment, that anger flashed brightly again in Hannibal’s icy blue eyes. “Lieutenant…” he started, but Face shook his head and tightened his grip on his Colonel’s arms.

“No, Sir. You can’t do this. You can’t.” Their gazes locked for a long minute, and Face started to worry he wouldn’t be able to distract Hannibal like this after all – there was only so far they could go in the middle of an army base, and he had no desire to be caught giving his lover a blow job in between two tents while trying to stop him beating up three soldiers before getting arrested. “Hannibal…”

The tiniest smirk crossed Hannibal’s lips all of a sudden, and Face relaxed ever so slightly, though he kept his grip on his lover’s muscular arms. “You won’t ‘let’ me do this?” Hannibal asked, deep voice barely more than a growl once again. It was a different kind of growl this time, one that Face was very familiar with. It sent another shiver down his spine, of arousal rather than fear. “And what are you going to do to stop me?”

“Already stopped you in your tracks, didn’t I?” Face shimmied ever so slightly against Hannibal’s body, rising up on tiptoes to kiss him again, slower this time, and deeper. “Let the system do its thing for once, Colonel?” he murmured against Hannibal’s lips, able to feel the slightest of nods in response before his lover took control of the kiss, two big hands coming around to cup his backside firmly through his uniform pants.

Suddenly, Face nearly toppled forwards into one of the tents as Hannibal pulled away abruptly. 

“Not here, kid. Not like this.” He watched as Hannibal straightened his uniform quickly before stepping back out into the main walkway, out of the shadowy gap between the two tents. Face waited a moment longer, subtly adjusting pants which were just a little too tight all of a sudden, until Hannibal beckoned him out. “All clear; come on, back to our tent. You can distract me properly back there.”

The predatory grin on Hannibal’s features told Face his distraction had worked just as planned. The promise of an illicit mid-day encounter back in their tent was just icing on the cake. He might need to keep his Colonel distracted for a fair while longer, after all, at least until the MPs managed to arrest the right men. 

Sometimes it was a hard life being Hannibal’s lieutenant.

 

 **When your Colonel has a fever**  
(Slight spoiler alert for Guardians Of The Galaxy)

“You sound like that raccoon, y’know?”

Hannibal’s slightly slurred words would have worried him at any other time, but as he helped his lover to lie back on the bed, Face found himself smiling instead, despite his concern.

“Right, okay,” he murmured soothingly, brushing Hannibal’s hair back from his sweaty forehead. “You know you’re really cooking at quite a temp right now?”

“Temp. You’re Temp. My Temp.” Hannibal grinned up at him, face flushed and eyes fever-bright. “And my raccoon.”

“Perhaps I should’ve taken you to the hospital after all…” Face mused, resting his hand on his lover’s forehead again to test how high that temperature really was. He’d managed to get Hannibal to swallow some Tylenol at least before wrestling him up the stairs of their current safe house, and he was fairly certain it was just one of those twenty-four hour flu bugs. But raccoons? Where exactly was Hannibal right now, in his delirium?

The older man flopped around a bit on the bed, resisting ever so slightly as Face tried to drape a cool sheet over his mostly-naked body. “No, I’m not crazy. You sound like that raccoon. Rocky, no – Rocket!” Oh, so that was it! Face barely supressed a groan – he should’ve known. “Especially when you laugh. You laugh like Rocket Raccoon.”

“As long as I don’t look like him,” he murmured under his breath, though obviously Hannibal still heard him.

“No, your hair is too curly. Though maybe if Rocket gets wet his hair goes curly?” Icy blue eyes drifted slowly shut as Hannibal heaved a sigh before adding, “That tail must be a nightmare when it gets wet.” 

Probably was. Face had enough trouble managing his own mess of curls at times, though – “I’ve never given it much thought,” he told his poorly lover firmly, draping a cold compress over Hannibal’s burning forehead. “And you’ve seen that movie too many times.”

Hannibal sighed again, turning gratefully towards that cool cloth. “It’s got a talking raccoon. And a tree. And it’s really good. You came with me three times.”

“Only because you bought me dinner each time. And told me we were seeing a different film the second and third times.” Face was still a little put-out about that if he was being honest, though now was hardly the time to bring it up. “And then you went to see it another four times without me.”

“Because Murdock was more obsessed than I was.” Okay, Face thought – valid point. Their pilot had been completely in love with everything about the film, singing songs from the soundtrack at the top of his lungs and convinced that BA was really Drax in disguise. Face was reasonably sure that had just been a joke, not actually something Murdock believed. Though you could never be sure, with Murdock. “And because I thought you sounded like Rocket Raccoon.”

Shaking his head as he leaned over to refresh the cloth, Face figured he might as well play along. “Okay, so if I’m Rocket, then who does that make you?” he asked, trying desperately to remember the rest of the characters in the film.

The answer came immediately, which suggested Hannibal had obviously thought about this for far too long, even before the fever which had made him start this ridiculous conversation in the first place. “Starlord, obviously.”

“Starlord. Really.” Face thought desperately for a moment, before placing the name. Peter-someone, who insisted on being called by a nickname no one seemed to remember. “You’re the hero? The slightly dorky one with the Jackson Five obsession?” 

“That’s Groot. I’m not Groot.” 

Ah yes, of course. Face remembered the little dancing twig at the very end of the film. “Groot was the tree, right? The tallest one, the one who saved the day? Rocket’s perfect partner?”

“Rocket loves Groot.” Hannibal seemed to be falling asleep at last, his voice growing softer and his body finally relaxing into the mattress as the medication started to kick in. “And Groot loves Rocket, too.”

In spite of the whole situation, Face snickered at the image. “That’s just slightly sick, Boss. You do know you’re talking about a raccoon and a tree…?”

“Groot loves Rocket,” Hannibal insisted weakly, struggling to turn over onto his side, though his eyes remained shut. Face rearranged the sheet over his lover’s burning body as Hannibal continued in a whisper, “So maybe I’m Groot, not Starlord. Because I love you, Rocket Racoon.”

“Feverish and slightly delirious is what you are right now, Hannibal. Lie still and go to sleep, okay? You’ll feel better tomorrow, I promise.” 

Faster than the ill man had any right to be, one strong hand shot out from under the sheet and wrapped tightly around Face’s wrist. “Lie with me, Rocket?” 

“I’m not Rocket, John, I’m Face. Temp, remember?” He tried to peel Hannibal’s fingers off, but the grip really was surprisingly strong and Face found himself tugged closer despite his best efforts. 

“You sound like Rocket,” Hannibal drawled, trying to pull Face down to lie next to him on the bed. “You’re mine, Rocket baby!”

“Let go, let… Oh, what the hell.” Deciding it wasn’t worth the fight, and feeling that Hannibal’s temperature had already dropped a couple of degrees, Face let himself be pulled all the way down and into a clingy embrace. It was already inevitable that he would get this bug, sooner rather than later, since Hannibal had first announced he was ill earlier by throwing up all over Face’s shoes. “Go to sleep already, Groot.”

“I. Am. Groot.” Face had to smile as Hannibal mumbled those three words into the pillow, one strong arm circling around his waist and keeping him close.

“No, John.” Leaning closer himself, Face pressed a gentle kiss to his lover’s feverish brow. “I think it’s ‘we are Groot’.”

 

** When your Colonel is unexpectedly… frisky **

After Hannibal brushed up close against him for what must have been the tenth time in as many minutes, allowing Face to feel the distinctive and undeniable bulge in blue jeans pressing up against his own backside, he felt he simply had to say something.

Careful to keep his voice low, worried about offending innocent young ears, he murmured over his shoulder, “Should I be worried that this seems to turn you on?” 

There came a soft snort of laughter followed by a strong pair of arms wrapping around his padded belly and squeezing tight for just a second. “You turn me on,” Hannibal whispered in his ear, warm breath making Face squirm happily. “The costume just makes me happy.”

“Not the time or the place!” He swatted those grasping hands away with a smile, carefully adjusting his distinctive red suit and straightening his fake white beard. “And I still don’t see why I’m the one in the costume rather than you. You’ve already got the white hair and everything!”

“Ah, but you’re so much better with the kids than I am, Santa baby.” 

Hannibal pressed a quick kiss to Face’s ear before moving quickly away as another child bounced up excitedly, and Face dropped easily to one knee in order to return her embrace, offering her a practised, “Ho, ho, ho! And have you been a good girl this year?”

The rest of the afternoon passed in a happy blur as Face made sure he talked to each and every child there, wishing with all his heart that the team had been able to find presents for all of them as well as organising this simple Christmas party. It had been a job that had been particularly close to his heart – a children’s home threatened with closure because of pressure from ruthless developers – and thankfully the team had managed to turn the situation around in time for Christmas Eve. 

By all rights they should have moved quickly on the moment they’d solved the problem; Face already had their next safe house lined up, and Hannibal had two or three potential jobs waiting for them. But it was Christmas, and they’d unanimously decided to stick around just a little longer, BA helping Face to arrange last minute supplies for a party, while Murdock took care of decorations and Hannibal ‘supervised’ in the way that only he could.

Somehow Face had ended up in the Santa costume, complete with padded belly and huge hat. And he was, admittedly, loving every moment of it. The busy atmosphere of the home reminded him of many a happy Christmas spent at his orphanage, when the Fathers and Sisters always managed to make the holiday a magical time for their many charges. It had always been like one huge family, in spite of the slight sadness that the children didn’t have true families of their own.

In spite of his earlier words, Hannibal seemed to be doing just fine with the kids himself, from what Face could see, the young boys in particular swinging from his arms and begging for piggy-back rides. Face allowed himself just one brief moment to imagine a life where the two of them might settle down and raise a little boy or girl of their own, before he shook off the thought – as if reading his mind, Hannibal glanced over at that very moment, smiling at him across the room with pure love burning in his eyes.

As the afternoon started to draw to an end, Hannibal managed to brush up against Face again and again, finding excuses to press close, or to casually brush cool fingers against his cheek while adjusting that fluffy white beard. And Face couldn’t deny the fact that his lover was most definitely turned on by him in his seasonal outfit. He really wasn’t sure if the thought was erotic or deeply disturbing, but he was open-minded enough to want to find out. Just perhaps not while there were still thirty or so small people running around.

By the time he and Hannibal eventually arrived back at their safe house, with Murdock and BA electing to stay behind in order to help with the clean-up, Face had been fending off his lover’s groping hands for the entire drive back. Now, one of those big hands squeezed his backside as they got through the front door, before Hannibal pushed Face back against the wall and kissed him hard, making his intentions plain at long last.

Face gasped into the kiss, the fake beard starting to itch slightly, and turned his head as he asked, “Seriously, Hannibal! What is it with you and this costume?” A sudden and faintly horrific thought crossed Face’s mind, and he drew back as Hannibal reached for him yet again. “Please tell me your Dad never dressed as Santa when you were a kid?”

A deep and loud laugh was Hannibal’s response. “No, he didn’t. No one in my family dressed up as Santa. And I never sat on his lap in a mall either, though I did write him letters every year until I was ten.”

“Then what…? Why…?” 

“Not sure.” Hannibal shrugged before offering him a wicked, hungry grin. “It’s just you, Templeton. You with those kids, you in this suit. Though I could do without these.” In an instant, Hannibal had removed the hat and beard, thank goodness, and seized Face’s lips in another burning kiss.

Face to face like this, there was undeniably something else that was getting in the way, and Face squirmed slightly against the wall as his padded belly was squashed awkwardly against his body, wishing he could feel Hannibal’s solid bulk a lot closer than he could at that exact moment. “Boss, let me get out of this – ”

“Oh, I’ll help you out of this suit in a very short while.” Hannibal dropped his head and started sucking at Face’s neck, making his knees grow slightly weak. 

“Soon would be good,” he breathed, finally giving up on any idea of resisting or trying to fully understand. Not that he’d seriously considered stopping Hannibal, not even for a heartbeat. “Soon, please, John…” Thankfully, his lover seemed to recognise the growing need in Face’s voice, pulling back just far enough to start tugging at the front of the bright red Santa tunic at the same time Face managed to get his hands on Hannibal’s belt.

There were fingers and thumbs everywhere, both of them shaking a little with anticipation and need, and neither of them were quite as coordinated as they usually were. Black buttons went flying across the hall as Hannibal gave up trying to get into the jacket and simply ripped it open, before Face swatted his Colonel’s hands away to slip out of the complicated straps holding his fake belly in place. 

As one they moved towards the stairs, each of them leaving a trail of clothing behind them yet somehow managing not to trip over anything as they raced each other upwards. Dress shoes fell heavily alongside large black boots, jeans landed on top of red suit pants, and matching white vests led to a trail of black socks in two different sizes. And finally, one pair of black silk boxer shorts fell on top of a pair of grey boxer-briefs, on the very top step.

Face wondered for a fleeting moment exactly what Murdock and BA would think when they inevitably discovered the incriminating trail, before all thought fled from his mind as Hannibal pushed him through their bedroom door and tackled him onto the bed. They landed in a giggling heap of tangled limbs, Face willingly letting himself be wrestled onto his back as Hannibal claimed his lips in a brief yet bruising kiss.

He chased Hannibal’s mouth as his Colonel pulled back. “Where you going?” Face asked with a gasp, though his question was immediately answered when Hannibal started to slide down his body, weight settling between Face’s parted thighs. As any coherent thoughts he might have had left started to scatter, he still managed to tease, “Don’t fancy me so much now I’m not Santa?”

“It’s not the Santa suit. It never was.” The word were muffled against Face’s skin as Hannibal pressed a series of tiny bites across his chest, scattering his thoughts even further. “I don’t have a thing for you in red, or a secret longing for you to be old and white-haired, or with a huge belly. Though I’d love you whatever you looked like, spots or wrinkles or scars. I’d love you always.”

“Good to know,” Face managed to gasp in response, arching his chest up as much as he could into his lover’s fleeting touches. “Not the suit; got it.”

“It’s just you, Templeton Peck.” A hot, wet tongue lapped at first one nipple then the other, making Face whine a little. “You taking care of everything the way you did today. The way you always do. So professional, though I know that was a difficult job for you, personally.” Face could only whimper in reply as Hannibal dipped that roving tongue into his navel. “The way you organised it all, and the way you were with those kids. The way you always take care of everything, and everyone.”

“Hann... Hannibal…” Face stuttered, hands flying to clasp at the sides of his lover’s head as his Colonel moved ever lower, a row of kisses landing lightly across his lower belly, just above his happy trail.

An open-mouthed, teasing bite to the crease where thigh met groin, and Hannibal mumbled, “It’s the way you take care of me.”

“It’s the other way round right now, surely!” Slick fingers suddenly at Face’s opening, teasing and stroking and coaxing him open, dipping in ever so slightly, and Face let his legs fall open as wide as they possible could even as his eyes fell shut. “Oh, yes, right there, please…”

All sense of the outside world fell away as Hannibal finally slid one finger deep into Face’s body, wringing another needy whine from his throat. “Easy, there,” Hannibal whispered, using his free hand to guide Face’s legs up and around his waist. “Relax, baby. You’re right. It’s my turn to take care of you now.”

Really, though, this was them taking care of each other, as Face knew Hannibal needed him as much as he needed his Colonel. He willingly let himself be arranged as his lover wanted, hands falling open on the sheets by his side as his focus narrowed to the feeling of Hannibal gradually working him open, one finger replaced eventually by two, then three, scissoring and stretching and stroking inside him until Face was little more than a quivering ball of nerves.

After the way Hannibal had gone at him in the hallway, and their desperate race upstairs, Face had thought this would be fast and furious, but there was such tenderness in the way his lover prepared him now that brought unexpected tears springing into Face’s closed eyes. All the time Hannibal worked his fingers ever deeper into Face’s pliant body, his other hand was stroking gently over taut thigh muscles and ghosted loving caresses up his flanks, random kisses placed over his belly in an unpredictable pattern which soon threatened to steal all his breath away. 

Just as it was all on the verge of becoming a little bit too much, just as Face thought he would have to move, or beg, he felt Hannibal shifting into position. Those probing, curling fingers withdrew carefully from his body and strong arms looped under his legs, lifting him higher and pressing up towards his chest until Face’s body was curled. Sucking in a deep breath, Face managed to blink open his eyes as he finally felt his lover start to slide into his body.

“John,” he breathed, and Hannibal smiled at him with such naked love and lust that Face felt again just how incredibly lucky he was to have this in his life.

The slow slide in was relentless, Hannibal’s length always impressive, and Face felt every inch deep in his gut even as his lover dropped his head for yet another burning kiss. Face managed to fling his arms up and around Hannibal’s neck, keeping him close as they were finally fully joined, Hannibal as deep inside Face as it was possible to be. He shifted his hips ever so slightly when Hannibal paused to let him adjust, feeling the sparkle behind his eyes at the tease to his prostate, his own ignored erection suddenly painfully hard and trapped between their two stomachs. 

Almost against his will, his eyes started to slide shut again in sheer pleasure as Hannibal withdrew slowly, again inch by inch until he was barely inside Face at all. “Eyes open, Templeton,” came the soft whisper, followed immediately by a tender kiss to his forehead. “Let me see those beautiful baby blues.”

The loving words were more effective than any barked order, and Face found himself staring deep into his lover’s own beautiful blue eyes as Hannibal finally started to move properly, driving in and out of Face’s body while holding himself up on strong arms. It stayed slow at first, a constant glide inwards followed by an immediate slide back out, then finally the pace started to pick up until Face could feel the breath slammed from his lungs each time Hannibal drove into him. He raked his fingernails down his lover’s back over and over again, pushing his hips into each thrust as well as he could, and tried not to scream with the near-overwhelming pleasure of it all.

Deeper now, and faster, the sweat visibly dripping down Hannibal’s face as he moved, and throughout it all their eyes remained locked on each other. It was somehow one of the most intimate things Face had ever done, even though they had made love this way many times before. Staring deep into those crystal blue eyes, seeing the matching sparks of pleasure each time Hannibal bottomed out, knowing this was all for him and him alone – it was that connection more than the friction on his throbbing erection which finally started the first coils of his orgasm deep in Face’s stomach.

He gasped, hands tightening into fists against Hannibal’s back. “Gonna, oh… John…” 

“Now, Temp. With me.” Hannibal dropped his forehead against Face’s, their gazes still locked together, as he slammed himself home again once, twice, three times, shifting the angle ever so slightly before driving in once again, and Face was gone, coming with a hoarse scream even as Hannibal roared out his own orgasm.

Endless, rolling waves of pleasure, his release coating both their stomachs even as Face felt the heat of Hannibal’s own release spreading deep inside his belly. Loose-limbed, his arms fell back onto the sheets as he gasped for breath, and he was glad Hannibal was holding his legs up as he fought off the threatening black spots dancing at the edge of his vision. It was like lightening racing through every vein in his body, like every cliché of rainbows bursting out from behind clouds and angels singing in the heavens, and Face couldn’t force his eyes to stay open even as the amazing orgasm started to fade away, leaving him tingling all over.

With a soft grunt and a shaky kiss to parted lips, Hannibal eased himself back and out of Face’s body, carefully guiding his limp legs back down to the mattress and stroking a tender hand through his hair. “Alright, baby?” came the murmured question, and Face was ridiculously pleased to hear his lover’s voice was a little unsteady too.

“Perfect,” he managed to whisper, though he did have to swallow a few times before his voice would work, and his eyes really didn’t want to open at all. Another kiss to his lips before Face felt the bed dip ever so slightly, Hannibal moving carefully off him, and a moment later he felt soft tissues cleaning up the mess he’d made across his belly, moving down between his legs gingerly, Hannibal knowing he’d still be sensitive. Face tried to coordinate his arms enough to catch his Colonel and pull him close, but he was still a little too shivery. “C’mere, John, please…” he mumbled instead, arms flopping in a way he’d hate if he hadn’t just come so incredibly hard, and Hannibal thankfully seemed to know exactly what he wanted.

That long, warm body Face loved so much stretched carefully out along his side, one strong arm wrapping around his waist to pull him close even as Hannibal managed to drag a soft blanket over them both. “Thank you, Temp,” Hannibal whispered, as the heavy weight of his head came to rest over Face’s heart. 

Warm breath tickled the soft hairs on Face’s chest as they both started to catch their breath, but there was something slightly off, something soft and fluffy tickling him where there should only be Hannibal’s close-cropped silver hair, and Face finally found the strength to blink his eyes open and raise his head enough to see – 

“Hannibal!” Face dropped his head back into the pillows and let out a surprised yet delighted laugh as he realised that his lover had somehow rescued the Santa hat Face had been wearing earlier, tugging it low over his ears. “Are you sure you don’t have a bit of a kink for red velvet?” he asked, wrapping his arms around Hannibal’s broad shoulders and hauling him a little closer still, the fluffy bobble on the end of the hat coming to rest in the dip of Face’s throat.

“Ho ho ho,” came the predictable yet sleepy reply, and Hannibal pressed a sloppy kiss to Face’s chest, just above his left nipple. “Happy Christmas, kid. I love you.”

Face knew he should be the strong one here, knew he should go clean up their clothes from the stairs, and grab a shower before he fell asleep, but lying there with Hannibal already drowsing in his arms, he suddenly found he couldn’t care less. It was Christmas Eve and he was with the man he loved – even if that man was wearing a silly Santa hat – and nothing else mattered. 

“Happy Christmas, Hannibal,” Face managed to say out loud before his eyes closed yet again, and the only answer was a soft snore.


End file.
